


The Anger Of The King

by Mormortrash



Category: A Conjuring Of Light - Fandom, A Darker Shade of Magic, A Gathering Of Shadows - Fandom, ACOL, ADSoM, AGOS - Fandom, V.E Schwab, Victoria Schwab
Genre: A darker shade, Anger, Angry King Maresh, Angry Rhy, Concerned Rhy, Fantasy, Helpful Parrish, Kell getting caught, Kell in the cells, Magic, Other, Violence Against Kell, cells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mormortrash/pseuds/Mormortrash
Summary: The King finds out that Kell has been smuggling tokens of other Londons home and has his guards bring the Antari in.





	The Anger Of The King

The guard's hands tightened around Kells biceps and shoved him forward into a wall, slamming him hard against the brick, his cheek hitting the cold stone of the wall before his chest did and he winced. 

"Take it easy,” the Antari grunted lowly, rolling his shoulders as his advice was completely ignored by the two guards. Yes, he could easily use his magic to push them away but Kell didn't really see much point. After all, if the king was angry at him then there was no need to irritate him more by causing harm to two of the royal guards. So Kell kept relatively still as the guards locked cuffs around his wrists, but no ordinary cuffs. No, Kell was Antari and therefore considered a danger. The cuffs, made of a single piece of iron, were enchanted to slowly drain magic from people, dampening it. Kell rolled his eyes as they were snapped on and he was dragged away from the wall, shoved towards the carriage. 

On the way to the palace the guards, who Kell had known since he was a teenager, didn't look him in the eyes. In fact, they didn't look near him at all. Instead, they simply stared forward as the porcelain white horses pulled the carriage towards the palace. They pulled up alongside not two minutes later, the guards at the gate, that Kell recognised as Jen and Parrish, already opening the two silver fences that formed a gate in front of the palace. When Jen didn't look at him, Kell knew this was more serious than he'd thought. There were no jokes about how Kell was always getting into trouble, no knowing looks between the black eyed prince and the guards. Nothing at all. 

Kell decided not to mention it and soon the carriage doors were opened and the man was allowed to step out of his own accord, which he did do, but was grabbed by the shoulders, each guard taking one and not at all being gentle with him. The black eyed prince was all but shoved into the throne room, the king and queen sat on their tall dark wood thrones, Rhy stood by the side of their fathers, casually leaning against it. He didn't seem too worried about Kell's condition, which could mean two things. One, that he wasn't in that much trouble after all, or two, that Rhy didn't know the true extent of the situation and figured his father was overreacting. 

The reality of the situation hit Kell and Rhy at the same time when Kell was shoved in front of the king, his adoptive father, who simply clicked his fingers at the guards. For a moment, Kell was confused until he felt the man's hands pushing down on his shoulders. When he resisted, the guard to his left kicked the back of his left knee, causing them to buckle forward and for Kell to drop down to his knees with a loud hiss in the room, head automatically bowed. Rhy's head snapped up. 

"Be careful with my brother," he snarled through clenched teeth to the guard on Kell's left. 

The king stood as stepped closer to the kneeling Kell, not within reaching distance, but close. He stared down at the boy he called his son, inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Kell snapped, looking up at the king with wide eyes, one greyish blue and the other a shining black, as always. He immediately regretted the words when the king stepped closer and Kell felt a blooming pain across his right cheek, a blooming pain that Kell had been on the receiving end of many times. His head turned with the force of the slap and a breath was forced out of him. Rhy went to step forward but another guard stationed behind Rhy held him back with a firm grip on his upper arm. The king gently stepped away, rubbing the back of his hand that had just created the red mark on Kells' cheek. The black eyed prince pushed his tongue into his cheek to try and relieve the sting to no avail. 

So it was serious. 

His knees ached from the harsh, unforgiving marble that he had been forced down on to by the guards. And he finally learned what this was about when the king revealed a small, white music box from his cloak, holding it out for Kell to see. But he didn't need to see it that closely, he already knew what it was. After all, he'd been the one to smuggle it in from Grey London. 

"Do you recognise it, Kell?" The king asked, eyes staring into Kell's blue one. His father never could really look into the black eye. 

"No, your highness," Kell lied, glancing down at the ground. This time, the pain came from the opposite side and this time Kell actually hissed through his teeth as the back of his father's hand came in contact with his left cheek, a matching red mark rising almost instantly. 

"One more time, Kell," the king warned softly, leaving the unsaid threat of 'or else' hanging in the air, "do you recognise this?" This time, Kell did not lie and he did not feel another bloom of pain across his face, but instead, he told everything. He told about how he'd been smuggling magical artefacts and tokens into Grey London for months now, and also bringing things back from White London and Grey London. 

For his honesty, the King just stared at him before turning his back on the black eyed prince, calling back to the guards as he returns to his throne. 

"Take him to the cells and lock him up. Tight." The king ordered, firm and cold. Not the warm father Kell had come to love. 

"Father!" Kell heard Rhy shout in disbelief, but Kell was still adapting to the warmth on his cheek and the feeling of being half shoved, half dragged down the stairs, tripping over his own feet. His coat was taken from his body and hung up by the door, along with some other trinkets he kept on him, such as the coins around his neck and the token of White London he'd smuggled back that very morning. Soon, he was shoved into a small cell under the palace and the cuffs were taken off, but not for long. Soon, the guards replaced them with another pair, a metal cuff that was attached to the wall, leaving long chains between his wrists and the wall so he had space to move around. He sunk to the floor as the guards left, shutting the door behind them. 

"What the hell was that?!" Rhy demanded, storming into his father's chambers, leaving the door wide open. "What the bloody hell have you done?! Locking Kell up like he's some animal! Release him!" Rhy seethed with anger and glared into his father's eyes. His black shirt hung off him a little, sleeves pushed up to reveal even more of the tanned skin of the prince. "The guards won't let me see him!" The prince hissed at the king, looking wild. But the king simply shuffled paper around his desk, not looking up to meet his son's eyes. 

"I did what I had to do, Rhy. You are not a father. You are not a king. I did what I needed to do to protect my city." Rhy angrily rounded the table, standing face to face with his father, the king. 

"He is your son!" The prince snarled, centimetres away from each other now, although Rhy had done all of the moving. 

"/You/ are my son!" The room went quiet for a second, but Rhy held the man's gaze. 

"And Kell is my brother." The King glanced down at the papers. 

"You are my first priority, Rhy. You are the heir to my throne. My /only/ son." Rhy knew that the words would have stung Kell like the edge of a whip splitting his skin. The knowledge caused a dull ache in his chest. 

"I am not your only son," the prince murmurs, slapping the papers from his father's hands and letting them scatter across the floor. "Kell is your son and has been since the moment you took him in." The king's jaw clenched and he turned to face Rhy, narrowing his eyes. 

"Get out or I'll have the guards remove you. Go to your chambers. You are not to see Kell for the next 3 weeks." The prince's eyes widened as the door swung open and the guards stormed the room, seizing Rhy by force and dragging him to his room.

The cells got colder and colder the longer Kell stayed, the cell becoming so cold he could see his breath. It had been 3 weeks and Kell hadn't had a single visitor beside the King and Queen. His cheek was red and his lip was split from the latest visit from the King who'd had Kell tell him every item he'd smuggled back from White London and backhanded him around every 5 minutes. The guards had been ordered to not interfere with the Kings 'questioning', only to have Kell on his knees, head bowed when he arrived. When Parrish was on duty, Kell was cleaned up properly, the guard would come in with a bowl of warm water and greet the kneeling Prince. Parrish would use a cloth and soak it in the water before crouching down in front of Kell and tilting his head up. He never said anything other than the gentle command of "tilt your head back, your highness."

This time, before he could finish, Rhy shoved his way past the guards and into the cell, seeing his brother on his knees and rushing forward to fall next to him. 

"Kell, Kell, look at me, look at me, Kell," he says, lifting his head to look at him. "Jesus, Kell. What did he do to you?" Kell hummed and rested his head on Rhys' shoulder, eyes closed. Rhy took the keys from his pocket that his father had thrown to him to uncuff Kell and put his brother's arm over his shoulders, lifting him to his feet and carrying him up the stairs from the cells. It takes both the princes about half an hour to get to Kells chambers, Rhy practically dragging him to his bed and lying him down. Kell fell onto his bed with a soft wince and a groan when he tried to roll over onto his back, opting to just stay on his side.


End file.
